Foreigners & Blind Date Pumps

9/07/2011 Unknown 7 Comments

So named for both ancestral and contextual reasons. The first is simple enough: lucky for you, The Anti-Austen is now coming to you with a multi-cultural voice. This foreigner is lucky enough to never need tips on becoming charming: instead, her dates are usually the result of some red blooded American’s ears pricking up to the sound of an intriguing accent.
Contextually, however, you should all know that almost 70% of the time, your newest blogger feels indefinitely foreign to the inner workings of most boys. The solution is simple: purge Brigham square of this:

And start producing more of this:

Here are a few tid-bits about me that might make you feel better about having my ramblings (and crappy sketches) pop up on your google reader:
1. I once broke up with a BOY, citing Elizabeth Bennett’s cutting remark to Mr. Darcy, “… had you behaved in a more gentle-like manner.” Three years later, and I still can’t quite decide if it was the most triumphant or most cringe-worthy moment of my so-far twenty-three years. Regardless of that little conclusion, you can at least rest assured that I am quite well versed in the inner most romantic tendencies of both literature and the female intuition.
2. I remind myself continually, as I sprint too and from classes and work, that I am probably having a better day than most of you, thanks to the SPICE GIRLS who frequent the waves of my iPod. Take me very seriously when I assure you that slapping a few SG hits on YOUR iPod will improve your existence immensely.
3. I once heard of a guy who, after holding open the door to the Harold Bee Lee Library for many girls, abruptly gave up his service as a couple of young women in sweat pants and messy hair walked up to him. They made a point of tutting and throwing him looks of disdain, to which he shrugged and bluntly stated “Hey- If you’re not gonna try, neither am I!” – If I had been there and watched this scene with my very own eyes, with Cecil Samuelson as my witness, I would have grabbed this man and kissed him on the mouth, fist in the air.
4. The BYU bookstore Chocolate-covered Cinnamon Bears MAKE NO SENSE TO ME.
5. The worst possible date I think a guy could ask me on would involve hiking. Hiking is NOT FUN. You sweat, it’s hard, and you look silly if you try to dress nicely. A close second would be “playing games” with his roommates and their dates. When I find myself in these situations I start to feel like any minute now Mom is going to walk through the door and pay me for babysitting. Take me on a grown up date.
Now that the formalities are taken care of, let me tell you about The Climber.
I had been set up on a blind date. Blind dates are a terrible business if you ask me. You put all of your soul in the hands of someone you believe to be an excellent friend, and in turn they produce someone they think could be your soul mate. For some people it works out. For me, it’s always a moment in which I realize my friends can’t know me even as little as I thought they did.
It started out well. I answered the door to a sharply dressed chap whose hair was brushed, shirt was tucked in. How refreshing, I thought, while quietly applauding myself for my standard “Date Pumps” and skinny jeans.
Let me take a moment to explain the Date Pump:
I’ll just fast forward to a scene in which your Date-Pump heroine finds herself paired with The Climber, who has since changed out of his outfit that complimented my own, and now stands in basketball shorts and a holey t-shirt. Awkwardly, I stand facing a man-made rockery; all around me are gym-clothed climbers harnessing themselves with the ease and comfort of non-skinny-jeaned attire.

The Climber’s solution was NOT to mention the nights agenda when he picked me up and complimented my expensive shoes. Instead, as an after-thought, he supposes that it would be “OK” if I borrowed his [used] gym clothes that are stuffed in the trunk of his car.
In the words of Shania Twain (yeah, I went with Shania) “that don’t impress me much.”
I’m not one for evangelically re-iterating a very apparent conclusion: so I’ll let you find the moral of this story (I’m looking at YOU, boys).
The Foreigner

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Anjelica said...

Foreigner, I LOVE YOU! I think we are the same person! You are just perfect in the absence of the Romantic! Please write plenty more in the future! And your drawings are great!

Jori said...

You remind me of Allie from the blog "Hyperbole and a Half." You're awesome :)

Camille said...

I concur most whole-heartedly on every sentiment!

Alexandra said...

You have renewed my faith in this blog.

Taylor Ann said...

WHO ARE YOU..? because you're hilarious. I literally laughed out loud.

Heidi said...

Welcome! :) I enjoyed your post immensely.

Anonymous said...

When I was first reading this, I was thinking, "I've never met The Boy before... is he really that common?" And then one of my roommates brought over a friend who fit that description PERFECTLY.Minus the puka shells, he was the spitting image.

Also, I like you. :)